ooh! some celebrity sightings!

The Dutchess works at "The Fish Market" which is located in the Westin Hotel in Pittsburgh. She's always telling me about celebrities and athletes she waits on, including Charlie Batch (the same Sunday night of the Steelers vs. Raiders grose-ness).
I got this email and I HAVE to post it because, well, just because.

"Anyway, did I tell you that they have been filming another movie in Pittsburgh called Smart People for the last two months and still filming? You can IMDB it. Dennis Quaid has been in the restaurant almost every night. He's there every night I work, but he always sits at the bar. SJP just got in last week for her part, but I've missed her both times she came in to eat. I REALLY want to see her!!!!! And that girl that was in Hard Candy? Ellen Page? Yeah, I waited on her and didn't even know who she was. She was with an older woman, her mother maybe? Anyway, when I took her order I went and said to one of my co-workers, "That girl at table 27 is really strange. I can't figure her out. She looks like she's 12 and talks like she's 20." She is SOOO tiny!!! Built like a 12 year old girl. But indeed, she is 20. Her IMDB profile says that sushi is her favorite food. Guess what she ordered?!"

If you haven't seen the movie "Hard Candy" you're missing a hell of an hour and a half.

I found some really cheap airline tickets and went down south to visit my friends. I was in Atlanta and Athens, Georgia for five days.

Thorndike came to pick me up at the airport in Atlanta and I couldn't wait to tell her about the security woman that rummaged through my make-up case for about two full minutes, which is MANY MANY minutes when you're going to miss the plane because your ride decided to show you the super-secret-back-way to the airport. I couldn't check my bag with all the gels and liquids that I was going to use to blow up things. Things such as my great new name brand hair stuff, two tubes of mascara, some Badger Balm, Burt's Bees face cream and a hairtie. "There are about eight items that I could've used to destroy the world right there in my makeup case." I thought, standing there totally vunerable in my argygle knee-socks.

Thorndike had a lot of exciting things to do planned when we got back to Athens but first we were going to meet Tote and The Falcon at their place and go grab some eats. Tote took us to a Vegetarian Indian buffet. I had no idea what I was eating, but I was hungry and it was good. The desssert was like a soupy creamy mixture that had honey and cream with rasins and nuts in it, and it was HEAVENLY.

Back at the house, I got a conga lesson from The Falcon. THAT was exciting. Just a few basic tecnique pointers and I was wailin away. Breakin out the beats like Shiela E. meets Ladysmith Black Mambazo. The Falcon said I was a natural. I'm sure he's right, I mean he would know. He used to play the drums for Dokken.

A few hours later, Thorndike and I headed to Athens. I was excited to see this:


Home of the DAWGS, and Thorndike!

I couldn't wait to see her little place, she really loves it and since I haven't been down there since she's lived in Athens, I was really excited.

We arrived and couldn't believe how awesome it was! It's like a little beach house. There's a deck on the front and the sun shines through the sliding glass doors. We sat out and had coffee and Bailey's each morning.





When I brought my bags in I discovered that inside my make-up case (that was so heavily a threat) there were: two pairs of cuticle scissors and tweezers. Thorndike told me that her friend had two-hundred dollars worth of make-up taken by the airport security not long ago. So here I am, having flown successfully with multiple weapons and Leigh can't get through with her designer make-up. I could stab everyone around me, but she can't plump everyone's lips. So just to let you all know, that's how safe we really are. I have sympathy for how serious it is, but I think it's almost comical. I'll totally laugh and laugh and laugh when that one good citizen stands up and saves the plane- by stabbing to death the hijacker using the cuticle scissors the airport screener over-looked.

TD took me to meet her friends and have dinner at one of her favorite restaurants in Athens, The Grit. A Vegetarian splendor. After that we walked directly passed the Christmas Parade crowd and to the other kind of spirits. Which is espically nice because down there they don't mess with the Pepsi. I ask for a Jack n Coke and I GET a Jack and Coke. NOT A JACK AND the "P" WORD. Here, I'll proove it.



Rob "G Money" Whitlock came to visit too! While working on his Masters he has gone into Shepherding. German Sheperding. He lives on some land in Alabama and after owning and raising many German Shepherds, he decided to buy out a breeding facility. They're mostly all Black and BIG!

I haven't seen these dogs, but the excitement in TD'S eyes when she talked about being in the PUPPY KENNEL was enough. These puppies take the canine equivelant of the SAT's and ACT's before they're a year old!

On Friday TD had to work in the morning so....
more to come...this has been sitting on my computer for four days and I haven't been able to finish it so read this.

Turkey Day Round-Up

I'm in Louisville (LOOH-ah-vooOOl) at my aunt & uncle's great house. The news in on and they're now telling a story about a woman jockey that was busted for making crystal meth. Earlier, when my dad and I were having coffee, they announced the lead in for the first time and I said "well, yeah. I guess that's no surprise. I mean it would make them beat the horse faster, wouldn't it?" Hell. With the horses all strung out on cocaine, why not give the jockey some meth? you git one hell of a duo truckin ass around the track and I'm SURE it's one hell of a ride! It could be called "track action" simular to, but not the same as football's "play action".

It's pretty early in the morning here and since most of my family is much more active at night (vampires) they're all still asleep. I found my Uncle's computer and decided to see how much better life would be with a laptop with wire-less access to update da'blog. Typing on this thing is weird, it keeps putting the curser all over the place. I'm using a PC AGAIN.

Two of my little cousins, Timmy and Nickolas just woke up and I'm going to fix them some gourmet breakfast- "you guys want some cereal?"


The funniest thing about this for me is that my Aunt has perfectly nice dishes- but the bowls were like plates with a rim (which makes for a real shotty cereal bowl) so when I placed the ones you see here on the counter and started to pour the cereal into them, they both looked at me like "??OOHkaay?"

My mom just got up and now I think I better make a run for the shower because with 23 people all staying in the same place, you have to get in there before the hot water tank implodes. I'll allow myself time for one more person to wake up before I run for the hot water.

Thanksgiving dinner was wonderful and seeing the whole family is one of my favorite things espically as I get older. We're all here- we even have two small babies added to the clan little Launa and Maurice Jr. although I'm not much of a baby oogler I cooed at them a bit.

Today I think we will go into the city and explore a bit. I don't care what the heck, because everywhere you look here in Louisville there's HORSES. We will go to Churchill Downs, the holy grail of horse racing on Saturday and I hope maybe to go out with the cousins. Always a good time. The Sun is beaming through the windows here and it's supposed to be 67 degrees today! I LOVE LOUISVILLE. There's something about it.

I dressed up as Holly Golightly for Halloween.

Here's a picture of my Halloween costume, I know it's pretty late, but it's SO in DEMAND. ha. It went over pretty well except that I was met with a lot of questionable faces at work. One of the servers asked me if I was supposed to be someone particular from that era or if I was a certain character...I think I over-did the eyebrows but in the photos I saw, they were pretty outrageous.

Caller: "Where are you?"
Me: "At the barn..."
Caller: "At the bar? What bar are you at?"
Me:"BARRRN. I'm at the BARN. Riding."
Caller:"OH. HAAAAAAh."

Everyone thinks I say "bar" when I say "barn" on the phone and it's funny because even they know that I am often at the barn, it's the first thought.

I have to start getting ready to go to work (dressing up for halloween!) but first I thought I would update. It's old news, but it's still news.

The police found my wallet. It was about four days after it got stolen. A "good samaritan" turned it in after finding it on the road or something. Just a few blocks from the barn.



The better news is that my driver's license was still in it and most of my other cards too - my social security card!

So after traveling through hell-and-back six times with getting a new license, I am now in possession of all the needed paper work to have an Ohio license but haven't found a time when I look less barn-d out to go get it. Did you know that they, yeah THEY, won't except the ACTUAL larger card that your social security card came on for ss id?! Those women told me that I had to have the ACTUAL business sized card that was ripped off the card I was showing. I'm here to tell you. THAT'S SOME BULLSHIT. I looked at it, I LOOKED at it real close. THERE IS NO SECURITY MARKINGS anywhere on it. Hell, I could Photoshop it in 15 mins flat.

AND if this all isn't too much good news for you to handle, how about this? my sticker AND the cigar wrapper were intact! (although the sticker was placed inside the wallet...haaaaa)



My wallet felt like a stranger when I got it back but I'm happy to say it is now in perfect working condition again.


Look at the art on this wrapper! I covet it.

This photo of Melanie, Beckee and Neal makes me laugh out loud. Thanks for all the laughs guys!

yay.

Ammendium.

In addition to my post about my wallet being stolen by "denim-on-denim" and my lovely day yesterday...
I had picked up a shift at work for yesterday because one of the bartenders is sick. I did it with the main intention to help out (I mean wed. night is not a huge money maker). Since it was a mid 3-9 shift I couldn't make it because of the whole wallet ordeal.

The manager told me he "MIGHT" have to write me up for it.

Wow. Although I accept responsibility for the ownership of the transferred shift, I was actually stepping up because yesterday was supposed to be one of my only two days off this week. Makes me really want to volenteer again, but...I have to take extra shifts, because I'm out $92 bucks.

Me and Twister yesterday.

so, a woman walks into a barn...

I just got home.

John the owner of the barn, and I went to breakfast this morning and when we got back he said that now is a good time to get the apples.



I had asked him earlier to take me out in the bucket of the tractor so that I can pick some apples off the tree in the pasture- the barn's bonfire & "weenie roast" is coming up on Sunday and I thought it would be neat to make some apple pie or something with them.

So I'm like "YAY" up in the tree and standing in the tractor bucket, I see a woman walk into the door of the barn. John said that I told him "There's a woman walking into the barn". People often stop by to ask about the horses or riding lessons, so I thought for a split second about having John lower me down so I can go see if she needed any help but then sluffed it off thinking it was one of the girl's mother- I didn't see a car out front and if it was somebody in need of help, they would eventually find us out there- and continued picking the apples.



Apples gathered, bucket ready to go, I ran into the barn to grab my purse where I had quickly put it on table and head down the walkway towards my car. "wow. this is not as FULL as it usually feels." I said to myself. I rummaged through it. It's NOT as full.



MY FUCKING WALLET WAS STOLEN BY THAT WOMAN?!?
I know. It's totally bizarre. The woman never materialized and I never even saw a car leave. I NEVER take my purse into the barn. Ever. Like I just said, totally bizarre. Who walks into a barn in the middle of suburbia and happens to see a purse there and THEN goes into it and takes the wallet?! The whoever was wearing a light blue blouse type shirt maybe even denim, not tucked in and some jeans or something.

When I realized all this, I went to grab a smoke. SHE TOOK MY SMOKES TOO?! grrrr. alright. Just because I'm sometimes the type to look for my cell phone while I am on it, I went to the breakfast place to see if maybe I left it there, or if it had fallen out of my purse...on my way back to the barn to look some more, I ran out of gas. I shit you not.

I had to serpentine a bit, but I made it far enough to park at the barn and had to get John to get one of his gas cans. Put some gas in my car, went to the bank, got some cigarretts and called the police to make a report, in which the officer was seven donouts LESS than patient or nice.

There was $93 in my wallet, my credit cards and the usual. I don't have a bank card so I think thats safe. That bitchwhoretrespassing-denim-on-denim slut can have the money- what I'll miss is the see thorough window on the back and the authentic cuban cigar label (that was GEORGEOUS) and the little black and white sticker that said "Never trust a preacher with a boner". THAT got lots of laughs.

puttin it out there.

I'm wondering how legit it is to write a post about having nothing to write about. Lately I've been thinking about writing a post that is decently arranged, witty, and has a point but I think I've got so many things to say that I loose my place...

Where am I?
Well. I can tell you that the one thing I will ever remember about this summer is loosing my mind on a trip. In a tent. Mid-June. I thought I half way lost my mind until the manifestation of one BAD ASS case of strep throat that left me feeling physically weak and famished, full marble loss confimed with the addition of the twice devil "spirit" card. (I felt so shitty that for fun, I did a "mind, body, spirit" reading on myself in which I pulled the DEATH card as my "spirit" card-two weeks in a row.) How fitting. Thats how I felt. Like my spirit was DEAD.

I realized, but all I could do was wait it out. I really thought about checking myself into the hospital because I was sure the thoughts I was having were NOT normal. But that would cost too much, so I concentrated on focusing on positive things. Even when the positive thought of the day was "I didn't feel like puking after that bite of food" my mantra was "It could be ALOT worse."

I got the tickets to the weekend concert "in part" because my ex-boyfriend was playing on Saturday afternoon. I say "in part" because I got the tickets for doing a 45+ hour illustration for a CD that was actually not the right art direction and never used. I'm fine with that, and thankful- although it ended up costing me more to go to this thing (even though the tickets were free) than I should have been spending. Lesson learned. While at the amazing concert I decided to make it really fun and that's when 5th Ave. did me in. I found the hippy with the shrooms and ate some - well, ate A LOT.

This was wrong for so many reasons so I'm going to fast forward past the part where I began to think the hippie boys were going to rape us, the violent vomiting outside the concert walls, the woman that offered me tissues and the sister-like friend with me- that couldn't do a thing (although trying) to comfort me, the desperation I felt while running back to the tent, past the part where my mind was convinced that I had just poisoned it with psilocybins and I'm dealing by telling myself to "try and calm down. to go with it. and relax." The problem was that as soon as that thought reached my cognitive thinking it was meant with a response something like "GGRRRRAAAAUUUGGGHHHNOOOoooooOOO!YOURALLALONE!!!MWwwwAaaaAHaHaaH." Lesson learned.

I go to the tent and dove inside, snapped into the fetal position under the sleeping bag and kept saying to myself "time. TIME. time. TIME". Eventually a series of giggles would come bubbling out, but a soon as I sat up it was a less than perfect idea.

My phone was dead I wanted to talk to the ex-bf who was somewhere backstage. All I wanted in the whole wide world at that point in time was to talk with him. I can honestly say with every given conviction inside me that I would have SERIOUSLY given up my next few breaths for a moment of comfort.

I know he's not my bf anymore, and he hasent been for 3 stinking years. The only way I can explain it is that after 5 years of together and almost 3 years apart I still felt like he is the only one that knows me inside and out. He's encouragement to me. He is honest-safe. He had promised me in the past that he would be there immediently if I was ever in trouble and I took it to heart. I guess I put too much into the past situation emotionally because when I finally facilitated to turn on the car to plug in my phone, to dial the number, to get him on the other end, I got laughed at. He thought I was alright, I guess, he told me to have fun and relax. although you don't often hear me say "ITSBAD.ITSBAD.ITSBADBADBADBADBAAAAAAAD." on the other end of the phone. Then my phone died completely and I COULDN'T. COULD NOT. get the motor skills together to plug it back in. Lesson learned.

I just knew at that moment when he said the phone cut out and he didn't know where I was, that it was the universe telling me to stop living in the past and to giddy-up. I anticipated a voice mail from him from after my phone died so suddenly but nothing. These were not the actions of the man I knew three years ago.

The saturn advice of the old haggard librarian came back to me once again....
"...because honey, one day he's not going to be around and then where will your library card be?" hah, well. His is on the main stage and mine, well it's still here in Youngstown right where he left it. (this is in no way, shape or form a blaming statment. I know that's possessively my problem)

I thought I was fine, I found out it was an emotional facade. I have that love, I know. But it's now in a little box with a bow rather than on my sleeve. No matter how much I miss it, or him. That's the way it has to be because that's the way things are.

I'm trying to work through what just happend on the phone and I look up to see my friend, my BELOVED friend sitting on top her car tripping - alone.
NOW I'm trying to work through the poison in my body, the phone call, and seeing her alone in that state feeling a bit shunned because of my requests for him. I'm sure and embarrased to say I was the one gung-ho for finding some shrooms, and now the emotions are REALLY of wack because I could not explain to her my reasons for wanting him and not her.

I survived the night to wake up feeling like I did something VERY wrong. I felt like something inside me schrivelled up and died. Got back home and had to deal with the job offer I got at this fabulous little advertising agency. I was really excited about it, until I got offered a wage comparable to and less than a tele-marketing position. I felt a bit insulted - with a degree, expereince and skills that were worth more than the offer. I understand it's a small business and all, but I gotta live at least. I'm sure he was playing on my NEEDING a job so I turned it down, with no money in the bank. I felt I had to. I was really wanting that job too.

Well, kinda really because now I have got a job making more money than if I took that one and I can still do the barn work and ride, and whatever else freelance I have. I'm feeling much better and pretty much returned to normal me. Most days I work three jobs. It's much better than sulking. I say that because even though when in the height of misery I KNOW that it will get better but it doesn't just HAPPEN overnight. It takes time.



It has taken me a few months but I've gathered my marbles. I feel like I have survived a breakdown of some type. I feel like writing again but I have nothing to write about.

Little girl passing time chasing catapillars around

On Saturday afternoon I went to see Melanie, Neal, Rachael, And Karen show their horses at a Hunter Jumper Schooling show.


Rachael McCall and Macintosh

The preperation for the horse show starts the night before when you do things such as, cleaning tack. That's horsie talk for: the thing on his head and in his mouth, the thing you sit in known as the saddle, and the other misc. things and straps that go along with the things. Takes approx. 1 hour. Bathing the horse, takes approx 1 hour. Loading the trailer with the horse at least once to make sure he'll do it in the morning, feed, hay, first aid kit, tack, and so on. Should take approx 3 hours by the time you remember everything and how the horse feels about getting into a big aluminum box.

One of the last things you should probaly do is braid the mane and tail because the less time the horse has to un-do those braids the better. This should take approx 50 minutes. It took me four hours. And it's not because I am the slowest person to tack up a horse. It's because as Mel said, "The first hour we accomplished nothing because Beckee and Christine kept arguing." OK so I thought I didn't need the internet directions. Hell, when I looked at them, they were telling me how to braid when I already know how to braid.-It was carved into my memory a while back (I think it came around the same time as cartwheels). The train started rollin as soon as I realized she found some secret encryption that explained how to tie it, and I figured out that the little comb I was using was actually a tool that seperates the braids into even chunks and three equal parts...ta-da! My first hunter braids on PJ!


Full view

Forelock

Close-Up

The next phase is waking up at 5:00am and getting to the barn, loading the horses and taking off to the show.


It's all pretty exciting...as long as you have 5-10 assorted periodicals, cell phones, hand held games, books, or anything else that will pass the time because to say that it consists of alot of waiting is like saying that a fraternity doesn't want free kegs of beer for life. That's what you do at a horse show. WAIT.

And if you're a parent, you give up tickets in hand to the Ohio State vs. Penn State game to sit and wait for 5-7 hours. Because an Ohio State victory is nothing compared to seeing your child win GRAND CHAMPION at the show. And that's totally awesome.


what Dads do at horse shows (look in the front seat).


What Moms do at horse shows


What kids do at horse shows

Then you get ready to wait some more. Here's Neal and Mel dressing to go into the ring. This photo is a perfect representation of Neal and Mel. They are really good friends and as soon as anyone teases them about getting married (which happens often) they instantly physically seperate from each other- and it's really funny. Sometimes I walk into the barn and announce "I'm coming in! you guys aren't making out I hope!". Mel gets way more fired up than Neal.


Mel checking her jacket and Neal goofing off.

Then you can go into the ring and school your horse...


Neal & Rocky

Then you watch other horses...


A neat "French Vanilla" colored horse with Blue eyes


A huge Bay I thought was pretty

And the waiting coninues until your class is called, or you have to leave because you have to go to work - thats why I did not get to stick around to see Mel and PJ get GRAND CHAMPION. I bet it was awesome! GREAT JOB MEL!! (and everyone else too!)

only costs 24-36 of the FRIGGEN BEST chocolate chip cookies in the world. EVER

Melanie just had her Senior photos taken and was telling me about the ridiculous price the photographer wanted to come to the barn. I know she really wanted to have some good photos of her and her boy PeeJay, so I opted to take a few (hundred). Here's a bit of what I shot...
By the way, I'm hire-able. And affordable.

This shoot only costs 24-36 of the FRIGGEN BEST chocolate chip cookies in the world. EVER. Made by Mel's mom.


And... I love this shot SO MUCH! SO "National Velvet" which Mel, nor her Mom- the woman that makes the FRIGGEN BEST chocolate chip cookies in the world. EVER. has seen! I know, can you believe it?! I mean it's NATIONAL VELVET!

Mutchie meets a puppy!

The two dogs in the photos of this post...the small ones, duh. Abbie and Pico. Remember I said "They're mad, rebellious, and getting horney."? Well, they did it. they did it alot. Abbie had nine puppies. I went over to my parents house see them, and take some photos. I took a puppy outside where Mutch has to stay because lil 15lb. Pico will try and give Mutch the business.
How cute it was. Mutch did his usual; sniff. sniff. ya, whatever.

Puppies are available. 1/4 Lhapso Apso and 3/4 Bishon. If you can spell those names you get a discount.

at the apple store

I'm still around... as a matter of fact I was in Pittsburgh yesterday and Mila and I went into the apple store. Mila distracted me enough to stop drooling and directed my attention to the FUCKING HUGE seventy-five inch apple flatscreen display where we TOTALLY KNEW that "photo booth" icon was the program to make the webcam work.

fun.

next time I think I will bring a towel, like at the gym to wipe my drool off the machines when I'm done using them.

santuccinator

Mila says:
"I don't have a digital..... YET! Damn I want one badly. I took the pics because 1) I am obsessed with the morbid and 2) the dead baby bird was the spittin' image of my aunt, Rosama bin Laden."
...her "BAD" aunt's name is Rose.

someone send me some Xanex??

eeegh.

Things are so weird. It's hard to know who to trust and what to do. I have blisters on my palms and the emotions are still in my head. I have questions that I need to ask. I have to be very careul of my attitude...I fear it may be declining. I have to focus on the goal. Motivate and execute. I have a fear of the constant constant. I have the radio on the most annoying station and I have to take a shower.

headstrong

Twister and I earlier today

I am so happy right now. I am so happy that I get to go and do this.

It helps me like my three times a week Green Tea. It WORKS for me. Even if I suck at it, it's one of the main things in my life that I am fiercely committed to. I want to soak up every little drop of knowledge about riding that I can. It's something I learn so easily, because I'm so interested. Execution, however is another thing all together. Let's get that straight now.

Some rides are good, sometimes I get off feeling like I have no business on a horse. But everytime I am thankful. I LOVE it. I'm horse crazy.

diggin

Ok, so I can't do that. I can't link an image from here to a photo album I made of all the flowers I've planted around my house...so here's a few.

It doesn't feel like the humane thing to do.

Toots was in a lot of pain and doing that panting thing cats do when they're a wits end. I stayed up with him mostly all night, massaging his legs and moving them around. There was really no improvement in the condition of his legs and I could tell by his breathing that he was in hell.

I decided this afternoon to put Toots down. I start to cry even reading what I just typed.

I told him all night long that he is the master hunter and that no cat will ever be able to rule the neighborhood like he did. He was a good kitty.

I think Meow knows something is up. He's kinda looking around the house and meowing. And surprisingly enough, Mutchie stayed right by the clothes basket I had him in all night.

that sucked.

mysterious cat paraylsis: Toots

Last night, when I came home from the lake, I noticed that my cat Toots was acting a little weird. He was trying to not put any pressure on his front paw, and for a cat such as him, appeared very lethargic.

Now, I must tell you that I complain about my cats a lot. They drive me crazy and when the two I have have gone away to a better place, my car won't be headin to the cat adoption any time soon. I mean c'mon, you'd have to agree with me...
They are the reason number one that I have an activity such as "The three-step-process to basement floor sanitizing; Bleach included" in my weekly regimen, and maybe above everything else I can hold a cat accountable for my last hospital visit. BUT, don't get me wrong. They're mine and I do love them, and I consider it a very serious responsibility to make sure I give them love, food and a clean litterbox. In return , they boss me and Mutch around, and get their laughs by counting how many times I get up to let them in. out. in. out. in. out.

So the cat's acting more like himself this morning, by swatting at the dog and purring like a fire engine. He's wanting to go outside so I let him (I can't NOT let this cat outside). He wouldn't jump down from the ledge by my door as usual but other than that it was happy hunting. A few hours later my neighbor calls me and tells me that my cat is under his little "overhang" foaming at the mouth.

I get home to find him under the house - sorta, wet and COVERED with mulch. He was a mess. I tried to get him out and he didn't move so I grabbed a hold of his body and pulled him out on to the driveway. The only thing that could be said at this point was: "WHAOMYGODWHATSWRONGWITHMYCAT?!" and "HOLY SHIT HIS LEGS AREN'T MOVING!" and "HE'S PARALYZED!!"

I immediently called Dr. Singh and he told me to bring him right in. We waited with a masiff puppy with what looked like "Parvo" gagging and throwing up slime while listening to a woman in the examination room tell Dr. Singh about "Jesus" and how he won't get to see the lord if he doesn't believe in The Lord Jesus Christ. She did it in such a "oh, hahah funny" way too, because she started the whole thing by using the Lord's name in vain.

He's paralyzed indeed. The Dr. thinks that he has aortic thromboembolism, a clot from his heart got stuck in the aorta where it splits off to the two legs thus paralyzing both legs and tail. It's painful, and it's a result of a heart condition, a heart condition that will eventually kill the cat. He gave him two shots and told me to wait a few days to see if he gets any feeling back in his rear end. He told me this was at "the top of his list" of cat problems. It hits so fast and when it does, that's about it. There was a Veterinarian in Pensacola that told us he had a murmur in his heart, but she also told me that I didn't really have to worry about it, some cats have that. Well, I did some research online a little while ago and he should've been on preventative drugs or something.

Dr. Singh looked at me with the raised eyebrows and crooked mouth of doom. I might have to put him down...

I'm not sure how I'm feeling about this. I keep looking to thoughts of the 17 year old girl, Ila having to put down her first horse a few weeks ago for positivity. I never wanted to have to be the one to make a decision like this, I mean I'd do whatever I HAD to do to make sure my animals survive and are healthy but I just can't afford to put him through tons of tests and whatnot- it's kinda easier when you have to decide if the cat can live with three legs.

He's home with me now, shacked up in two clothes baskets one taped on top of the other because he's trying to walk. He got out of the carrier's bottom and I found him in the little litterbox I brought upstairs, lying inside of it. He doesn't seem to want to eat or drink. I gave him a baby asprin and I hope he's not in pain anymore. I will watch him closely and decide what to do in the next few days. Actually it depends on if he gets better. Tomorrow I'm going to get a second opinion from the vet where I take Mutch.

This is the hardest part of being a lover of animals. Having to be the human. Having to be able to be the more intelligent, the comforter and the ultimate judge.

Toots drives me crazy and even attacked me once, but he's a good kitty. I will be really sad if I have to take him on that last ride.

HBBT

Happy Belated Birthday THORNDIKE! I can't get that pic to post. Will fix.

to much tv

I watch Dateline. I hear about all of the stalkers going after young girls on myspace. They even get personal information from comments friends leave. Last names!
I realize that I put a lot of personal information on this blog. I just want to put it out there that:
I am skilled in the art of using a horse for war- I keep a pony in my basement for this purpose. I posess Beatrix's Hanzo sword and the Crazy 88 are ICE'd (In Case of Emergency) in my cell phone. I had my dogs teeth removed and replaced with solid gold shark incisors. Implants let him shoot porcupine quills in every direction upon command. At any moment I can turn my house into a maze of lazer beams that if touched could pulverize a kingdom. I know some people that know some people. I know the sacred art of passive aggressiveness. And I will use it if necessary.

Small doggy door. Big dog. Fitting shit into a bag.

This is a photo of the three dogs that hang out at my family's business. (l-r) They are: Pico- a Bishon Frise that is actually owned by my youngest brother Steve. Pico is a circus attraction, by the way he likes to lift his leg I'm sure he'd be great at lifting both of them for money on top of a big ball with lights. And glitter. I can't even say how annoying and adorable he is at the same time- but he came from a pet store that should say enough.

In the middle is Abbie, my mom's dog. She's a sweetheart and will bring an abrubt end to any offset of attention in Pico's direction by clenching the back of his neck in her teeth. When the two of them get going, it's just a big white blur. It's the equivalent of the blur you see when the Tazmanian Devil rolls across the television screen, Only white with scwehching barkings. They like to show it to everyone, right as soon as you enter a room. They're mad, rebellious, and getting horney.

The dog on the right is my other FRAaaaaaaNK's dog. Orion. For the most part he's totally cool and laid back just like my brother. The largest Chow-Chow you'll probably ever see. He knows it too. He chased four Arabians around a pasture until he had them cornered, they were rearing and bucking all up in his grill and he DODGED every hoof. He had them so worked up they broke through the fence and hauled ass down the country street (at least the fence would get fixed right away). I personally saw him pull himself into a car with it's window rolled down 1/4 of the way to get at a Dalmation. He's "dog amazing" when he want to be and today isn't the day.

There's a doggy door in between the desks at the office. You can see that Abbie fits through it lickity split.

See how small it is? Not as small as the door Alice had to squeeze into, but smaller than Orion...

I tried everything I could think of to get him to go through that door. I threw treats out there. He just looked at me. I had the other dogs go out. He just looked at me. I swear that this dog will go through that door. He does it. He knows I want to blog it. Just as I started to give up, I heard my brother come into the office. SWEET, this is like trump card. I ran around the corner "Frankie! will you go outside and call Orion?!!"
"Whaaa? for what?" he said
"Because I have to get this. I have to let the people know that theoretically, you can fit 13 pounds of shit into a 6 pound bag. And I want to do it by showing that Orion GOES THROUGH that door."
"Oh man, he's old and you're crazy. Don't make him go through that door."

After a brief bargining session Frankie headed outside to call his loyal dog through. That. Door.
I was getting my camera ready and my heart was beating like crazy "I am so getting this." I thought...
He called for the dog a few times. "c'mon orion. come." like: "yeah, I'm ready for my catheterization." Then his voice stopped and he appeared around the corner. He came in looked at Orion and walked away- this is what Orion did

He turned around and said SUCK IT. Of course, my only reply was: "yeah, well go shave your ass."
So maybe the universe is telling me that you can't fit all that shit into a bag. It only goes in there when it feels like it.

thanks blogger blog peeps

Thank y'all at Blogger for suggesting that I use Firefox to blog on blogger instead of Safari. I wasn't even aware I could get it on my mac. It's SO MUCH better! I can "runaround" photos! I spent an hour trying to discipher the code to do that last night.
I've said it before, I'll say it again. YOU ROCK.

thirty three POW.

Last Thursday night I was walking into a bar to meet some friends. As I entered the doorway I tried to get by three guys that seemed to all be looking at me in the way that you get looked at when somebody is waiting for a response from you..."can we see your ID?" the one with the larger of all three sets of muscles said to me. I wasn't even thinking, because I...well, I was drunk. (I highly suggest the hour of power at Jolly Joe's- ANY shot $1. ANY SHOT. ANY.)

I reached into my pocket to get my driver's license and at the same time the door dudes were guessing back and forth to each other what my age is..."23!" one said. "25" the other replied as the third dude stood looking at me like he's the man with the microphone at the "guess your weight, win a prize" carnival attraction.
"oooh, good guesses!, Thirty three." I said.

Ok now. What I really need to do is tape the expression on people's faces when I tell them (or they find out) how old I am. Granted, these guys might've been trying to hit on me. BUT, at least the rest of the general public that looks young (and I know they exist) would buy it.
Here's what it looks like from this angle; a bunch of OOHS AND AHHHS. They look around and punch whoever is standing next to them like the half-snake, half-lady straight up off the sideshow midway is standing right there. Oy, only now can they indeed say they've seen it all. Women get jealous sometimes... Then the compliments (thank you) and the questions: 'are you married?", "ever been married?", "have any kids?" interestingly enough to end every time with the unremitting game of "OH, HOW OLD DO YOU THINK iiIiiiee AM?!"
It's not just that. I often feel like I have to bring the fact that I am OVER 30 up in many situations and conversations.

I was talking to my mother about it the other day and she recalled a few instances when she was out with me and my brothers and how people would treat her thinking she was not even old enough to have three kids. -She looked very young too. I remember when I was in first grade, I told everyone that my mom was 40. She was actually 24 or 25. She showed up at a confrence and the teacher was looking for a 40 year old. She's laughing at me as I continue to talk...
I told her of a situation I ran into earlier where I felt like I was unintentionally called "not an adult", in a way that I could not supervise activities at a place where others aren't allowed to be "if there is no adult present". I understood that part but the day earlier the only adult present was me. In this case I understand that there needs to be rules and I don't want to call attention to the conversation had. I find no fault with the other person I was speaking to, they didn't mean to insult me.

I have to be careful when I feel that need to defend the many many many years that I have been alive. It's really my problem and I have to remember that I do not need to outwardly call attention to something that's my deal. I have made choices that I will never regret and I've shaped a life much different than much of the rest of my peers. I'm comfortable with it. It works for me. Kiss didn't name the song "Christine Sixteen" for shits-and-giggles. Christine's just 33 now.

I have nothing against the "big ideal", really. I think about having my own little girl riding a pony someday...I think of it. It just hasn't been the right time for me I guess. - I might need a kid because Christmas is getting bOOorrring, and I'm running out of things to take photos of.

Did I mean it to be like this? eh. I don't know. I think I ran from every perspective offering of babies, houses in the suburbs, getting my nails filled, using hairspray, and credit cards for Talbots. I'm more interested in that $5,000 Hermes saddle than that $5,000 diamond bracelet (I like them too, but not as important as HORSES.)
When the girls I graduated with were on their first honeymoon, I was at some phish show tripping on acid and in love with my life. Yes. I have responsibilities and I strive to move ahead in life. I have grown up and I have to giggle when I think about that one hot night somewhere in Virginia where I told myself that I NEVER stop doing acid. Because now, I don't want to do any acid. Hell. I want to protect my credit, and make sure my car payment is on time. I took off the hemp necklaces and yes, I wear makeup again...MAC makeup. And black stilettos (when the need arises)...But I'm still a hippy.

Where I'm at? well, who ever coined "supposed to.." would say I made alternative choices. I don't have to call divorce lawyers or babysitters. Even Economically I fall through the cracks. I can't get Medicade or $3,000 back from my taxes (hey, I understand that's not alot when you have kids) because I don't have any children, and I'm not disabled. I put a hatchet in my foot by accident and I get NO HELP- just working a full time job like every other responsible single american adult living practically paycheck to paycheck and I have an accident. Health care is not even available at my All-American FULL TIME JOB.

Socially, it's sometimes entertaining. I can be involved with a wide range of mixes. I know the proper boundaries of when I can get away with saying "shoot" instead of "shit". I know what a Bratz doll is and 50cent's new song, but I also hold my own in a conversation about Surrealistic Art or pending litigation. Sometimes "the adults" worry about me. I think my mom get inundated with inquisitive aunts and friends saying "does Christine have a boyfriend yet?" or better, to add insult to injury... "do you have any grand-childrend yet?"

I'm not sure what I have to do to look older psysically. I'm pretty sure the answers are: to wear shoes that make noise when I walk, to purchase one of those cheesy goddy six carat 24k gold tone rings at kaufmann's and make up an husband, to dress with pants that come up to my real waist, to layer base coat makeup so thick on my face so that it looks like I'm hiding wrinkles, wine and cry until the grass gets cut "BECAUSE I'M A WOMAN. I DON'T CUT GRASS"? Did anyone say hairspray? uhh, what else? OH! get rid of the Jetta and Buy a minivan and stock it with carseats? fake carseats? from the thrift store?

NOOOOOO thanks.

I'm here to tell you. I'm alright with my house that's never been kid proofed, my stumbling in drunk at 4am, and the dirt scattered across my kitchen floor, and being taken for an early twentysomething. Being alone while sick is another whole story.

Cassie wanting to collect? I like that trot. However much I look down it's a wonder I stay on top.
Thanks Summer for taking that, photos of your ride next (finally)!

welcome spring and jack & coke's at the lakehouse!